Detour
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: It wasn't fixed, and it wouldn't be easy, but with Sherlock right there, face pressed against his neck, John thought that maybe they could fix this. Maybe they weren't completely lost… maybe they'd just taken a detour.


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 2887

**AN **\- I may continue this at some point.

* * *

**Detour **

* * *

John rubbed at his temple as he walked down the corridor. He'd just been getting ready to leave after an eighteen hour shift when his colleague stuck his head around the office door.

"How many have we got coming in?" John asked, glancing to his left at where Dr Harrison paced beside him.

"Eight in urgent need of attention and then a further nine that are in need of treatment but can wait," Thomas replied with a frustrated sigh. "I'm sorry I had to ask you to stay, John. I know you've already worked a long shift."

"It's fine," John replied, waving him off. "Who else is here?"

"Richard, Analise and Jim are all scrubbing up as we speak, Scarlinsky is on her way, and we've sent a few of the interns to find the slackers on the wards."

John snorted. "Alright. Where's my shadow?"

"Who've you got today?"

Shrugging, John grinned. "I have no idea, I keep giving 'em the slip. Alfie, I think. Maybe."

Tom laughed. "You're a bad boy, Johnny. Hit up the nurses desk on the way round and ask em to send a call out for you. We've got thirteen minutes until the first Ambulance is due."

"Sure, sure. You know, if they were better at shadowing, I wouldn't have to try and find them," John replied with a mock scowl.

"Rigggght, and the fact that you hide from them on a regular basis is their fault?"

"Obviously," John agreed affably, making Tom laugh again.

"Ah, Watson, Harrison. Have we got an ETA yet?" Dr Richard Hubbard asked as the two entered the ambulance prep area.

"First one in, ah, twelve minutes," Tom confirmed with a nod.

"Hey, Rosie? Can you put a call out to my shadow, I've lost him," John called to the nearby nurses station.

"Again? You're a bloody nightmare, John Watson!"

"Yeah, yeah, tell me something new why don't ya?" John replied smirking at her. She rolled her eyes and waved him off.

As the rest of the surgeons, residents and nurses gathered, John scrubbed back up quickly.

"Dr Watson?"

"Ah, Alfie, there you are. Where were you, actually, never mind that. Find Andrew Carlise and tell him to scrub up because I need him, and Discay, Murrey and Achard as well, please."

Alfie nodded, turning on his heel and heading back the way he came.

"Why do you always get the best techs?" Dr Annelise Conway asked, nudging his side.

"They know how I work and I haven't got time for breaking new ones in," John replied with a small smile. "It also helps that I don't instantly want to kill them on sight when I've already been working for eighteen hours."

Annelise laughed. "Point to Watson. "

"Alright, the first ambulance is pulling in," Tom shouted, getting everyone's attention. "The other's will be following on within minutes."

"Doctor Watson, everyone you requested is here and ready," Alfie said, appearing at John's side once more.

"Alright, I'll take the second ambulance then," John said, nodding to Richard. The patient was fetched in minutes later, and laid carefully onto the bed. John's eyes widened.

"Was anyone else from the Police car brought in?" he asked, as his techs surrounded the bed.

"No, just minor injuries," the paramedic said. "You know him."

"Yeah. What are his injuries?"

John listened to the list with growing horror as he took in the broken figure of Gregory Lestrade. This was one surgery that had to go well. He wouldn't lose his old friend.

* * *

John scrubbed down quietly, thankful that he was done. It had been a little hit and miss for a while, but he was fairly certain that Greg would recover without difficulty.

"How'd you get on?" Harrison asked when John walked back down to the nurses station of A and E.

"Alright, he'll recover, god willing," John replied. "You?"

"Fine," Harrison replied with a smile. "You heading out?"

"I am, unless you need me?"

"Nah, you're good mate. Head on out, I'll see you on Tuesday."

"Alright. Later, mate."

John had nearly cleared the door when his name was called out. He turned to see Sally Donovan staring at him with wide eyes.

"Oh. You were with Lestrade?" he asked, pausing by the doors for her to catch up.

"Yeah. They said the surgery went well though," she replied, wiping at her forehead.

"I know. I was the one who operated on him," John informed her quietly. "He should be alright, Donovan. S'long as he does as the doctors tell him, at any rate."

"Thank you, Dr Watson, for saving him."

John smiled. "It's my job, Sally. But, for what it's worth, you're welcome."

"How've you been?" she asked.

"Fine, fine. Keeping busy, you know?"

She nodded.

"He's not the same without you, you know?"

John sighed. "I'd really rather not discuss him if it's all the same to you. Honestly, I'm ready to go home, I'm beat. It was good to see you, Donovan. Tell Greg I hope he's feeling better soon."

"I will. You should come and see him when you're next in."

John nodded vaguely and with a brief wave, he was hopping into a cab and giving over his address. The only thing he wanted right now was his bed.

* * *

John arrived twenty minutes early for his shift the following Tuesday, making his way to the recovery ward. He wanted to see how Greg was getting on and he knew it would be rude not to take a minute to see him anyway.

"Dr Watson?"

"Oh. Michelle. You're my shadow today?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. I'm just heading up to the recovery unit to check in on a patient, but I'll be down at the cafeteria in twenty minutes if you just want to meet me there."

"Yes, sir," Michelle replied respectfully, bowing her head slightly.

John chuckled to himself as she left. His first shadow on his return to accident and emergency had spoiled him for the others. Elena Mendez had been sassy, cheeky and highly competent. He'd been so proud of her when she finished her studies, but he missed her something fierce whenever the new shadows arrived.

They were all so meek and polite and well behaved.

So boring.

_Dull_.

Shaking his thoughts away, John pushed the doors of the recovery unit, eyes moving immediately to the board holding the patient's names. Lestrade was in the end bed. John wandered over, smiling when he saw Greg sitting up in bed, Donovan by his side.

"Hey," John greeted, offering a grin. "How you feeling?"

"Glad to be alive," Greg replied, holding out a hand to shake Johns. "And I hear I have you to thank for that?"

"Ahh, all in a day's work, mate."

"S'good to see you, John. How've you been?"

"I'm good. Busy, but good. Hows NSY?"

"Same old, I suppose. Getting back into the swing of having Sherlock around again."

John's stomach tightened slightly at the mention of his once best friend, but he just nodded thoughtfully.

"That's good," he murmured, picking up the chart from the end of the bed to give it a once over. They fell into a slightly awkward silence before Greg cleared his throat.

"He's not the same, you know? Since he came back. He's… quiet. Withdrawn. Almost… diminished. It's weird."

"He was away from everything he knew for almost three years. I'm not surprised he's changed. Anyone would, I should think."

John was rather proud of how even his tone was as he spoke, when his insides were screaming to get away from the conversation. It was a subject he avoided whenever possible, even inside his own mind.

"Have you seen him at all?"

"No. Well. I mean, I saw him when he first came back, obviously. But not since then, no."

"You should try and talk to him, John. I'm fairly sure that you're what's missing for him at the moment," Greg implored.

John shook his head. "I can't. I should go, I've got to pick up my shadow before my shift starts. I hope you're better soon, Greg."

"John… I'm sorry, mate. I know how hard it was on you after… I'll leave it alone, alright? We should go for a pint when I get out of here."

John offered him a tight smile. "You've got my number. Give me a call, okay?"

"Sure, sure."

* * *

"Oi, Watson!"

John turned around to find Tom and Annelise standing at the nurses station.

"What do you two reprobates want?" he asked, walking over to them.

"We're going for a drink when we're done here, you in?" Annelise asked, smirking.

"Why not?" John replied. "I've got to run up to the recovery unit because Andrew can't be assed to do his job, but then I'm done for the day. Twenty minutes?"

"We'll wait. Jim and Sarah are going to meet us at the bar as well."

John smirked at the mention of Sarah Scarlinsky, making Tom roll his eyes. Tom and Sarah had a… fraught relationship, and it was always amusing to watch them snipe and bitch at each other, all the while making eyes at each other when they didn't think anyone could see them.

John laughed, waving at them briefly before he turned and made his way back to the recovery unit. Word had come through from Carlise that he didn't have time to do the post op care for Lestrade, leaving the job in John's capable hands.

Entering the ward, he walked through to the storage room, grabbing what he needed and handing them off to Michelle, before he rejoined Lestrade.

"Hey John, didn't expect to see you again today," Greg greeted. He'd been reading the paper, but his eyes lit up at the prospect of familiar company.

John grinned. "I'm here to check your stitches and redress your wound. Dr Carlise would usually be in charge of this, but he's a lazy ass, so you got the good doctor."

Greg laughed. "Must be my lucky day."

"Must be. Lean back against the bed, mate, I'm going to lower you into a lying position."

Nodding, Greg did as he was told and John pressed the button on the side of the bed to lower him down, pulling the sheets back as he did.

"Oh. Uh… I'll come back."

John turned sharply to see Sherlock standing by the curtain, his face paling.

"Sherlock. It's fine. If Greg doesn't mind you seeing his wound, you can stay."

Lestrade waved Sherlock into the seat at the side of his bed, looking briefly between John and Sherlock.

John concentrated on being gentle as he pulled the padded bandage away from Greg's stomach, eyeing the stitches carefully. They were healing up as well as could be expected.

Taking the wipes from Michelle, he cleaned the area softly, pulling carefully at the skin.

"You're healing well," he confirmed, glancing up to smile at Greg. "The scar shouldn't be too big either."

"That's good," Greg replied, grinning cheekily. "Wouldn't wanna take a woman to bed with the fear that I'll be looking like Frankenstein's monster."

"Oh, you're stunning," John replied, rolling his eyes with a smile as he redressed the area.

"Dr Watson! What've I told you about flirting with the patients?"

John turned around, smiling widely when he caught sight of the speaker. He snapped his gloves off before raising his arm to greet the newcomer with a hug.

"Hiya gorgeous, what are you doing here?"

"Come to see you, duh! I'm so horribly infatuated with you, I just can't stay away."

"Must be my spectacular good looks," John replied with a put upon sigh. "It's so hard being so pretty."

"Hmm, I'm thinking it's more your sparkling personality."

John laughed. Turning to Lestrade who was watching the banter with unconcealed amusement, John said, "This is Elena Mendez. She was my first shadow when I came back to A&E. Elena, Gregory Lestrade, Detective Inspector at New Scotland Yard."

"Nice to meet you," Elena said with a small smile. John saw her eyes glance to Sherlock.

He hesitated for a moment, before he gestured to Sherlock slightly. "And that's Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh. _Oh_. Your…"

"Yes. That one."

"I see. Interesting. Nice to meet you too then," she added, nodding at Sherlock. Turning back to John, eyes twinkling mischievously, she said, "I've just been informed by the mighty Dr Conway that you're playing out this evening. Thought I'd tag along."

"Oh Christ. If you get arrested, I'm not bailing you out."

"Bah. That was one time!"

"Hmhmm. Get gone, I'll meet you downstairs in ten."

"Aye aye, Cap-i-tan!"

She saluted him, turning on her heel and walking out of the ward. John shook his head after her, amused. He turned back to Greg.

"You want to sit back up for a while?"

When he nodded, John adjusted the bed.

"She's certainly a character," Lestrade commented.

"Oh, she's that," John agreed. "Right, you're all done, mate. Should probably be Dr Carlise checking on you tomorrow, but I'll be around so I'll nip in if I get a minute."

"Cheers, John," Greg replied quietly, glancing at Sherlock. John followed his eyes to find Sherlock staring at him like a starving man would a steak.

"John? Have you… Can I have a minute?" Sherlock asked quietly. "Please?"

"Ah, sure. I've to go to my office, if you want to join me?"

"Of course."

John offered Greg a final smile before he turned away.

"Michelle, you can leave now if you like," he added, dismissing his shadow as they left the ward.

"Thank you, Dr Watson."

John rolled his eyes but carried on walking, listening to Sherlock's footsteps behind him as he led the way to his office. Neither of them spoke until they were inside with the door closed.

"John… I… it's good to see you."

John nodded, leaning back against his desk.

"I miss you, John. I know, I know you said you couldn't go back to the way we were before, and I understand but… I miss you like I'd miss a limb. I'm out on cases, and I look for you. I'm in the flat, and it's just so… quiet without you. I go to the morgue, and I expect you to be sitting by the table, watching me or talking to Molly or just… I miss you everywhere. You become my foundation, John, and without you, I don't know who I am anymore."

John swallowed hard, Sherlock's words touching him. It was nice to hear, the confirmation that the sentiment between the two of them hadn't been one way, but it was all just… too late.

"I miss you too," John replied quietly. "But it doesn't change anything. You didn't trust me, Sherlock. No matter what else happened, or didn't happen, that's the point that I just can't get past. You didn't trust me to keep you safe, to protect you the way I have done since the day I met you."

Sherlock shook his head. "It was never about trust, John. I trusted you with my life. I still would. It was my turn to save your life though, don't you see? It was the only plan left to use, and if I hadn't, you'd have had a bullet through your brain before any of us had time to blink. I couldn't let you die, John. I couldn't."

Sighing, John leant back against his desk. "I understand that, Sherlock. I'm grateful that you saved my life, truly. But… What about after? Mycroft could have told me. A letter. A text… A fucking carrier pigeon… You didn't have to let me believe the lie for so long."

Nodding sadly, Sherlock replied, "I understand why you're angry. Honestly, I almost contacted you so many times but… the mission was dangerous. Really dangerous. And… John. I didn't know that I would make it home. Would it have been better for me to tell you I was alive and then die for real? Would you have had any sort of closure? Would it have been better to go through the pain twice?"

John couldn't deny that Sherlock was making sense. He didn't know if it would have been better or worse.

"I… You're right. I don't know what would have been better. I'm not… actually, I don't know what I feel about it anymore. I just… things can't go back to the way they used to be, Sherlock. When you died… Christ, my life was over. You were my life, do you understand? Everything about me was connected with you, and then you weren't there anymore and I was left with less than nothing. If it happened again... "

"Okay. I can accept that. Just… please, John. Don't cut me out of your life completely. Please?"

Hesitating only momentarily, John lift his arms up, letting Sherlock practically fall into them, his own arms winding tightly around John's waist as he buried his face in John's neck.

"I missed you, so much, so, so much."

Stroking Sherlock's back comfortingly, John murmured, "I missed you too, Sherlock. I'm glad you're home."

It wasn't fixed, and it wouldn't be easy, but with Sherlock right there, face pressed against his neck, John thought that maybe they could fix this.

Maybe they weren't completely lost… maybe they'd just taken a detour.

* * *

**Written for; **

Auction - Laughing

365 - 363. Foundation

1000 - 702. Style - 3rd Person


End file.
